Sword Coast Rambling

3, 10,12

Leaving the hospitable dwarf behind them, Beetle, Syna and Serak meet with the others in the town square before making their way northwards out of the awakening town. The elongated shadow of the manor house stretches over them as the sun slowly rises over the hill to the east. On their way from the square the party are waved off by an enthusiastic Sister Garaele, "Good luck to you all! May Tymora bless your paths!". Heads of the few that have gathered in the square already, turn as their attention is drawn by the sudden disruption. Taking his spot as the front of the pack, Beetle leads the party away from the spectacle. A group of young children laugh and joke as they run alongside as they pass Barthens store, tapering off as the buildings slowly dwindle in number. Within a mile the town of Phandalin is behind them. The party are once more allowed to be with their thoughts.

The wind that bombarded the town during the night has dissipated leaving the sky above them clear of cloud. The road is quiet today, save for the small group of rabbits that Brots had spotted as they turned onto the main Triboar trail. Time passes slowly on the rolling fields of the trail. Stopping for a short break beside a small pond gives the party a chance to admire the beauty in this part of the sword mountains. To the north, trees of Neverwinter Wood stretch as far as the eye can see. To their south, rolling foothills gradually rise up to the dominating shapes of the Sword Mountains. Icespire Peak and Wyvern Tor tower highest in the range away to their south east. 

After a days heavy march, the group find a quiet circle of trees off the road, in which to make camp for the night. Brots and Syna gather what wild vegetables they can to make a soup while Zyltris and Beetle busy themselves chopping wood for the fire. Serak meanwhile investigates the site, checking for any hidden dangers. They sit around the fire as darkness falls, a warm fire and good company is enough to ease their concerns of safety on the trail. Before long they turn in for the night, leaving Beetle on watch sitting on a nearby stump.

2,7,20

The second day of marching follows similarly to the first. After a light breakfast the party dismantle their camp before following the road further to the northwest. On todays march, Syna realises that each step is slowly and gradually getting steeper than the last. Though he had begun to realize this towards the latter part of yesterday, it is more obvious now that the foothills are edging ever closer. 

Pushing on, Beetle follows the road as it drifts away from the mountains once more. They pass a small ruin of a farmhouse hidden beneath a sprouting of new oak trees and a small dried up well - it seems that the prosperity of this route has suffered the same fate.  

At the end of their second day, the party settle into the same routine. Finding a quiet area off the road, the party sit quietly around the fire that night. Serak tells the group a tale he has been saving for such a night, one of his favourites that he once heard from a hermit whilst travelling from Daggerford. 

2

During the night, the weather turns for the worst. Clouds roll off the nearby mountains and down towards them, following the trail westwards towards the sea, bringing with it a deluge of rain. Thankful for the cover given to them of a set of nearby trees, the party gather their belongings hoping that the rain lets up.

The road quickly turns thick with mud under the heavy rain as they make their way through the old ruined village of Conyberry. What was once a thriving farming community has long since disappeared, leaving only the broken rocky remains of a few building straddling the roadside. The trees which grow regularly along the trail offer welcome cover from the relentless rain as they follow the path west from the ruined town and into the forest.

With the patter of raindrops above them in the canopy, the forest around them grows dark and still as the trail winds deeper into the trees. Heavy vines and thick layers of moss drape the branches, and the air is noticeably colder than it was in the ruined village. Scouting ahead Serak rounds a bend in the trail and suddenly sees a screen made from the warped branches of trees standing close together, woven into a domelike shelter in the shadows. A low doorway leads inside.

OCC: been sick...  Will try and catch up

Serak: Upon reaching Conyberry, Serak says, "I'm surprised no Orc ambush yet. They must be further east."

Scouting the trail northwest toward Agatha's, Serak spots the strange structure ahead and stops in his tracks. He backs away slowly and returns to the party. Stepping from behind cover, he says, "Some kind of strange hut woven from trees, just around the bend ahead. If we get into position out of sight around the bend, I can attempt to draw out whatever might be inside. Do banshees weave creepy tree-lairs for themselves?"

Arcana: 22

Looking at Beetlejuice and Syna with a knowing smile, the bard says, "I know what you two are thinking... just give me a few moments to obtain the information we seek from Agatha before you do... what you need to do."

"Don't forget this.." Beetle says and hands Serak the gift for the Banshee that Sister Garalee gave them to try and persuade her to come out and parlay..."I don't know what it is she just said she had a gift for the banshee in return for the needed information."

OOC: No problem Kasian. Don't think you've missed very much apart from some narrative! Hope you're feeling better.

Thought I'd said what the gift was sorry! It's a jewelled silver comb to appeal to the banshees vanity.

Serak recalls a vivid tale of the Banshee of the Forest of Tethir, where the ghost of the fair elven maiden Naivara chose to haunt the wooded glade in which she died. From his recollection, Banshees aren't known to make lairs of any sort, let alone from intricately weaved branches. This hut looks older than the crumbled town of Conyberry, but kept fresh by the constant repeated growth of the forest around it.

Serak: Flashing a quick grin, the bard says, "Fear not! Flattering women is perhaps my third greatest skill! Although... half the women in Phandalin despise me... definitely top five though!" He takes the comb and stows it in his belt. 

Sneaking forward, Serak takes a position behind cover with the others. He then slowly sneaks forward through the trees, taking cover in a position that allows line of sight to the hut.

Stealth: 12

Pulling a bit of fleece from his vest, he waves his hand and casts Minor Illusion. He projects the sound of his own voice, but originating from the opposite direction down the trail. Making his voice sound far off and distant, the illusionary Serak shouts, "Hail there! Hail! We are but peaceful travelers on an errand and mean no harm."

If there is no reaction, Serak repeats this while making his voice sound closer and closer, until originating from right outside the hut.

The bards voice echoes through the forest slowly getting closer and closer to the entrance to the hut. With his last spell casting his voice calls directly inside, but receives no reply or reaction from inside. As the voice fades away, the forest again falls quiet. The banshee does not appear. Above them the pattering of raindrops provides a steady beat to punctuate this phase of the plan. 

"Try laying out the comb maybe." Beetle says... "Could work"

Serak: Whispering back, Serak answers, "I'll try, but perhaps this Agatha is within this place and we must enter?"

Stepping into the open, Serak kneels and holds up the comb. In a respectful tone he says, "Forgive my ruse, oh wise and beautiful Agatha. I'd be broken if my attempt at cleverness has ruined my chance to gaze upon your face, even but for a moment! I present you with his humble gift - a comb as fine as your flowing locks, oh enchantress of the wood! I beseech thee! Show yourself to me!"

Seraks words echo gently through the wood. He stands proudly, and outstretched arm holding out the jewelled comb. A few seconds pass... followed by a few more. A raindrop heavily drops onto his forehead from a tree high above him and trickles down his face. The doorway suddenly looks more tempting than standing in the rain.

"I think you were right and maybe we should go in," Beetle says, "get out of the rain at least."

Serak: Falling into formation, Serak says, "It was worth a try. I doubt hiding is much good with banshees. Let's do this together. Lead the way, Beetle."

Beetle leads on, ducking low to enter the dome of woven branches. The inside is sparsely furnished with chests, shelves, a table, and a reclined couch, all of it old and of elven craft. A deafening silence fills the room, merely broken by the occasional rain drop outside. 

As the five of them make their way inside, the air suddenly chills. A powerful feeling of dread grips them all individually. A cold, pale light flickers in the air, rapidly taking on the form of a female elf, her hair and robes waving in a spectral wind. She might have been beautiful once, but a hateful expression twists her features now. "Foolish mortals," she snarls. "What do you want here? Do you not know it is death to seek me out?"

"We have brought you a gift,"  Beetle says holding everything he feels in and not lashing out at this evil creature. "We have a question to ask that we will gladly trade this comb for." 

Brots, seeing the banshee appear will inspect her, checking to see if she is leaving tracks or marks of any kind below her, in case she decides to run. He'll also see if he can recall any weaknesses that are known to him about banshees. History Check on Banshee Weakness (Adv. for favored enemy): 20

(OOC: If any other checks are required, let me know.)

Zyltris, still wary of the banshee, will wait just outside. 

Serak: Serak holds forth the comb and says, "Sir Beetlejuice speaks true, my fair elven maiden. We humbly offer this fine comb as tribute to your beauty. Bards shall sing of the timeless enchantress for ages to come! We ask in return only the location of Bowgentle's Spellbook, so we may help a friend."

Brots stands motionless in a mix of fear and concentration. Glancing at the spot where Agatha stands, he notices the banshee makes no marks below her as she hovers above the ground. A sudden memory flashes into his mind. Banshees are no real weaknesses as such, but plenty of resistance and immunities. Their weapons will have a hard time having any effect against this creature.

With Beetle and Serak both attempting to appease her, Agatha grabs the comb from their hands. The ghostly figure smiles with cold amusement. "Very well," she says, "Such a pretty little thing deserves an equally pretty answer. I traded the spellbook for beautiful golden mirror more than a hundred years ago. A necromancer named Tsernoth visited me that day and took the book with him back to Iriaebor. What happened to it afterwards I cannot say." She strokes the comb through her white wispy hair humming softly as she does so. She once had a comb just like this and she has missed it dearly.

Zyltris overhears the banshee and tries to recall if he knows anything of necromancers or Iriaebor. (OOC: not sure what I would roll to try this)

OOC: Probably a history check. Definitely an intelligence check of some sort, history would be the closest to roll.

Zyltris History (Intelligence) check: 24

Zyltris puts his mind to work as he tries to place the city of Iriaebor, or remember anything of necromancers. He knows that the city, known as the City of a Thousand Spires, is at least 1000 miles south of here beyond Baldurs Gate.  While the name of the wizard Tsernoth does not ring any bells, the elf is familiar with necromancy and understands it as a school of magic aimed at manipulating the power of death, unlife and the life force.